


Secrets in the Dark

by punkstealer



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove & Eleven | Jane Hopper Friendship, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Protective Steve Harrington, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-07-20 03:03:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19985011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkstealer/pseuds/punkstealer
Summary: Billy swings his head to the other side and looks at the bigger, older man, “You’re not my mom.”“Thank god for that. Now, hold still. I need to see if your leg needs any stitches.”“Oh, okay,” He shifts to turn back to Steve, “Who the hell is that?”Steve can’t help the snort that comes out as he watches the biggest asshole he knows act like some drunken toddler. “That’s Chief Hopper. I’m actually surprised you haven’t met him yet.”





	1. Chapter 1

Billy learned a valuable lesson today and it was that he’s the one that is _responsible_ for Max, even when he’s not the one watching her. Sure, he knew that she was sneaking out, and hell he was the one that let her sneak out his window, but Neil and Susan were home. So why the _hell_ did he get his ass beat when he’s not even in charge of her!

_Respect and responsibility._

He can’t help scoffing as the words bounce around in his head. Once Billy had peeled himself off of the kitchen floor, that had hurt like a _motherfucker,_ he had wanted to find that little shithead and wring her fucking neck. The anger had seeped into his bones and his hands were shaking as he reached forward to grip the steering wheel; he could practically imagine the cold leather as Max’s throat and that’s the thought that had jerked him from his anger.

Yelling and shoving Max? That’s okay in his book, but he drew the fucking line at leaving bruises on her just because he was pissed at his dad. He is _not_ his dad. Billy jerks his car to the right, barely making the turn onto the dirt road because he had been flying down the road, and he just doesn’t want to _feel_ right now.

There’s really only one way to fix that.

Billy doesn’t even think as he opens up his glove box and blindly searches for the bright orange container that’s always in there, in case of an “emergency”. He tips the opening of the pill bottle into his palm and quickly dry swallows whatever comes out. There’s a bottle of whiskey in his trunk somewhere and when he parks that’s definitely the first thing that he’s going to get.

He’s either in for a good time or he dies. It’s a win-win, really.

By the time Billy finally comes back to himself he realizes he’s parked in the middle of some clearing in the fucking woods, Hawkins really does suck, and he’s sitting on the ground with his back propped up against his car bumper. The whiskey bottle he had been thinking about earlier is clutched in his hands like a lifeline. He’s not sure if it was the pills or the booze, but something made him lose all the tension he’s been carrying around all his fucking life. 

There’s a loud crunching noise off to the side and it takes too much energy for Billy to turn his head to see what it is. It also doesn’t help that the moon is hiding behind grey clouds and is offering no fucking light.

His head feels like it’s packed tight with too much cotton and every nerve in his body feels like its tingling; it’s, sort of, similar to when he stands up too fast, but it’s dialed up to an eleven. So, it’s not really all that shocking when he zones out and forgets about the thing making weird noises somewhere in the _surrounding_ trees.

Well, he forgets about it until it’s suddenly on him.

“What the fuck,” it comes out a jumbled slur, but, apparently, some of his brain cells are still functioning and screaming at him to get this _thing_ off of him! He swings his right hand up and around, watching as the whiskey bottle smacks into the thing’s face…petals.

It peels back the petals and reveals rows and _rows_ of sharp fucking teeth, which seem to be getting closer to his face. So, he does the only rational thing and brings the bottle the down again and _againandagainandgain._ If Billy is going to be honest, which he rarely is even to himself, he doesn’t feel like he’s in control of his actions and it’s more like he’s watching through a camera. He can see one of his arms raise up, to push against its chest and keep it away from his face, and with his other hand he picks up a piece of the broken bottle, because apparently that shit happened at some point, and he’s jamming it into whatever he can of the thing.

It almost feels like it’s taking too long for it to fucking stop moving. Something that smells _awful_ is spraying onto his face, it lets out a wet whimper, and then it finally collapses onto Billy’s lap. And Billy, Jesus Christ, Billy is trying to get his brain to start functioning again.

Maybe mixing substances _hadn’t_ been a good idea. Huh, his old therapist would be proud of that breakthrough.

There’s another noise coming from somewhere, but Billy couldn’t be bothered to give a fuck anymore. Let the flower monster just eat him. As long as it’s quick then that’s fine with him.

“Hargrove?” The voice is familiar, but there’s suddenly a light blinding him and he can’t see who’s talking, “ _Jesus,_ Hargrove, what the hell happened to you?”

Billy opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, his eyebrows are furrowed together, but then it seems to finally click in his head, “Harrington!”

Is that his voice? Shit, Billy sounds wrecked to his own ears so he can’t even imagine what he sounds like to _King Steve._ Is Steve actually here? Maybe it’s all some drug induced hallucination. A hysterical laugh bubbles up and out of his mouth and suddenly he’s throwing his head back and letting that awful noise out into the open. It shakes him to his core, but he can’t make it stop.

“Fuck, fuck. Shit, Billy, can you hear me?”

Or it’s Harrington, who’s crouching in front of him, shaking his shoulders. Everything is getting too hazy and Billy is so ready to let go of this awful day; hell, he’s ready to let go of this awful life. So he does just that.

Billy, clutching onto the cooling body of a flower monster, lets his head fall forward to rest on Harrington’s shoulder, and lets his eyes fall shut, his slurred voice whispering, “Shut up and let me sleep.”

The older teen’s protest fall onto deaf ears as Billy falls into unconsciousness.

Everything is still hazy and warm when Billy blinks his eyes open, but all the colors and shapes are merging together so he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s looking at. He just knows that there is someone talking above him and then they start tugging at his jeans. Billy’s blood turns to ice in his veins.

He thinks the fuck _not_.

“No, don’ wanna,” he still sounds slurred, but that doesn’t seem to bother whoever is talking to him. “I don’t. Stop.” He’s thrashing around, or he thinks he is but it’s hard to tell if he’s actually moving, and he’s reaching out to push the intrusive hands away. “Mom, don’t wanna.”

She grabs onto his hand, one that he’s still waving around to keep her away, and gives it a couple of squeezes, “Billy, can you hear me?”

He can feel his eyebrows pinch together as he finally process the familiar voice. It takes another moment for him to turn his head toward the voice, and it takes _even longer_ for his eyes to focus on the poof of hair, “It’s messed up.”

“What?” Steve asks as he looks down at Billy and drops the hand he had held onto.

Billy brings his hand back up and latches onto Steve’s again, “Your hair.”

“It is _not_!”

“You with us, kid?”

Billy swings his head to the other side and looks at the bigger, older man, “You’re not my mom.”

“Thank god for that. Now, hold still. I need to see if your leg needs any stitches.”

“Oh, okay,” He shifts to turn back to Steve, “Who the hell is that?”

Steve can’t help the snort that comes out as he watches the biggest asshole he knows act like some drunken toddler. “That’s Chief Hopper. I’m actually surprised you haven’t met him yet.”

Billy gives a small hum in agreement then lets his eyelids fall shut again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve POV taking place after finding Billy in the woods.

“Doin’ great there, Princess.” 

This really isn’t how he thought the night would go: Billy Hargrove a drunk mess that he has to try and maneuver back into his car. The younger teen clumsily pats Steve’s shoulder as he finally gets him into the passenger seat. He looks like he’s going to say something else, but he seems to have finally remembered the black goo that’s drying over the front of him. Billy’s still clutching the large, glass shard in his hand and Steve’s worries that he’s going to cut himself and get Demogod blood in it. 

“Wha’s this?” 

“I’ll explain it to you when we get there.” 

“Where?” 

“Don’t worry about it, big guy,” Steve prepares for Billy to throw a fit, maybe get a couple of hits for hits for his troubles, but Billy just hums in agreement. 

Billy’s head fell against the window while Steve drives through the woods to Hopper’s house. Everything looks the same in the dark and it’s taking Steve longer than he’d like to find Hop’s cabin. He glances over to Billy’s side of the car and feels the worry spike when he catches sight of the blood staining his pants. 

“We’re almost there, okay? Stay awake.” 

Steve doesn’t even try to be discreet as he screeches to a halt outside of the cabin. Hop and El are already on the porch, the light basking them from the open front door. 

“Jesus, kid,” Hopper is already opening the passenger door by the time Steve manages to yank the handle on his door. “What the hell did you get into now?” 

“Demodog,” Steve gasps out as he goes to throw Billy’s other arm over his shoulder to help Hopper. “I found him in the forest like this.” 

“Fuck.” 

The two of them manage to drag Billy into the house, barley managing to get him over the tripwire as he tries to walk himself, and El closes the door behind them. She already spread a towel down on the couch and had the first aid kit on the coffee table, “It’s a good thing she saw you coming.” 

Steve grunts while dropping Billy onto the couch. Blood and black goo are sticking to his hands and staining his clothes, but Hop is ignoring it as he fights with Billy’s belt buckle. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” 

“We need to see how bad it is. This isn’t something that we can really bring to the hospital, is it?” 

It seems to click in Steve’s mind and he rushes forward to help peel the pants off. Billy groans out a protest and he feebly pushes their hands away. Or, well, he tries to anyway. When he notices that he’s not stopping them he tries to grab onto the front of his pants. 

“No, don’ wanna. I don’t - stop,” Billy is moving aound a bit more. Both hands are coming up to shove his and Hopper’s hands away. “Mom, don’t wanna.” 

Steve freezes up and he can see Hopper in the corner of his eye tense up. They’re both out of their element right here and El is still hovering close to them, just waiting to jump in and help at any moment. Steve reaches out and grabs onto one of his flailing arms. He gives it a few squeezes, “Billy, can you hear me?” 

Billy slowly stops fighting them and that’s Hopper’s cue to continue tugging the jeans off. He can see the rows of tears on his thigh, but he turns his head away to focus on the way that Billy is slowly turning his head around to look at Steve. 

“It’s messed up.” 

Steve furrows his brow and drops Billy’s hand, “What?” 

“Your hair.” Billy reaches up to grab at the hand that Steve just let go of. 

“It is _not_!” 

The fucking nerve of Billy Hargrove. 

“You with us, kid?” 

Both of the teens turn to look at the older man. He has Billy’s jeans yanked down low and his boxer pulled up high so that he can mop the blood up from the oozing puncture wounds. Steve can honestly say that he’s not jealous of the position that Hopper is in. It’s not like Steve has an issue with blood, but there’s just _so_ much. 

“You’re not my mom.” 

Oh, Jesus Christ. Steve isn’t prepared for this. He just wanted to walk through the forest and help his anxiety over the fact that there aren’t any Demodogs, but here he is now. Demodog dead in Billy Hargrove’s lap and now this. He isn’t ready for this. 

“Thank god for that,” Hopper’s voice cuts into Steve’s panic and draws him back into the present. “Now, hold still. I need to see if your leg needs any stitches.” That’s a fucking lie. They both know he needs stitches. 

“Oh, okay.” Billy shifts so that he’s looking up at Steve again. “Who the hell is that?” 

He can’t help snorting at that. Billy is too fucked up on whatever he’s on to act like the asshole he is at school. “That’s Chief Hopper. I’m actually surprised you haven’t met him yet.” 

Billy makes a small noise in reply, but he quickly falls back to sleep. Panic surges inside of him. “Shit. Hopper, he’s out again.” 

“Good. Means he won’t move now.” 

Steve’s thankful that he didn’t mention how high his voice went. 

\-- 

“So are you going to tell me what the hell happened tonight?” Steve and Hopper stood outside smoking while El stayed inside with their “patient”. They had finished patching up his leg, and a few cuts on his arms too, a while ago and Steve felt like he was going to go insane if he didn’t get to stretch his legs. Hopper could tell and offered up the excuse to go outside to smoke. 

Steve shrugs and takes another drag, “I don’t know. I just go outside sometimes and, uh, just keep an eye out on everything, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Hopper lets the smoke flow out of his parted lips. “I thought we were done with all of this Upside Down shit.” 

The pair sit in silence, both lost in memories from the events that happened not too long ago. El opens the door, the light washing over them on the porch, “He’s awake.” 

She doesn’t wait for them and instead turns to head back inside. Steve scrambles up and follows after Hopper. He’s not really sure what to expect when he gets inside: maybe Billy looking for a fight or trying to get the hell out of here. What he didn’t expect to see is El sitting on the end of the couch with Billy’s head cradled onto her lap, her fingers combing through his knotted curls, and quietly talking to him. The closer that they get, Steve can pick up what she’s saying. 

“-wasn’t nice. I didn’t like it, but Hop,” she pauses, struggling for the words that she wants to use, “He’s good. He’ll help you too.” 

Steve creeps around the couch, keeping out of striking range because it’s still Billy, but he doesn’t have to worry about anything. Billy may be awake, but he’s not really coherent. His eyes are open and glazed over with his pupils the size of a pin. 

El doesn’t stop petting him, but she does bring her other hand up and rest it over the edge. A bright orange bottle is held tightly in her small fist. Hopper steps up to it and she easily drops it into his awaiting hand. Steve tries to look peer around and look at the label, but Hopper is quick to turn it away and shove it in his pocket. 

“Well, what do we do now?” 

Hopper lifts one eyebrow at him, “Where did you guys leave the body?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I'm useless and this took so long.

**Author's Note:**

> Rating may change.  
> Leave a kudos and a comment!   
> Also, come talk to me on [tumblr](https://lucihatesgoats.tumblr.com/) about this ship that I just got into.


End file.
